Blackwolf's Redemption

His actions were brisk. Purposeful. As if making a bed by the fire, settling into it with a woman in his arms, was everyday stuff.

He’d forgotten pillows. It didn’t matter. He could do without one and Sienna… Sienna sighed and put her head on his shoulder.

He went very still.

Another sigh. She flung her arm over his chest, her leg over his. He could feel the race of his heart.

“Sienna,” he said, and cleared his throat, “Sienna…”

She moved closer. Her hair whispered like silk against his jaw. Sweet Lord, she was killing him!

Okay. Enough. He could do this. Roll her off him. Put some space between them. Not too much; she needed his body heat but—

“Jesse?”

Her voice was as soft as a summer breeze. Her eyes opened and met his. His heart thundered when she smiled.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat again. “The bedroom’s too cold. I couldn’t leave you there. You’re safe here. I promise I won’t—”

“Jesse. You came for me.”

He told himself she was half asleep. That she was dreaming. He kept telling it to himself even as she wound her arms around his neck.

“Sienna…”

He bit back a groan. Her skin had gone from chilled to hot; her hands were like flame on his shoulders. He wanted to kiss her. Put his lips to hers, see if she really tasted as sweet as she had before.

She did.

Sweet. Honeyed. And tender. God, so tender, the fit of her mouth so perfect under his.

Her breath hitched. “Jesse,” she whispered. “Jesse…”

This was when a decent man would have stopped. Pulled back and said, Sienna, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing.

But he wasn’t a decent man, he hadn’t been one in a very long time. And when she framed his face with her hands and lifted herself to him, when she bit lightly at his bottom lip, he gave up thinking, rolled her beneath him and took the kiss as deep and savage as the storm that raged outside.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SIENNA had slept, but badly.

Frightening dreams that left her on the knife-edge of panic kept waking her. Or maybe it was the cold, seeping into her bones. She’d been able to see her breath condensing in the increasingly cold room.

Foolish, not to have climbed into Jesse’s bed, she’d thought, but by the time she admitted it, the effort to do it seemed too great and she’d tumbled back into uneasy sleep.

Then, as if in a dream, she’d heard Jesse speak her name. Felt his arms closing around her, carrying her away from the cold room, from her nightmares, bringing her to warmth and safety simply because he held her.

And then he kissed her.

The kiss roused her from sleep, sent delicious shock waves coursing through her body, made her feel alive and secure….

Made her want more.

She came fully awake, aware that he was holding her as if she were made of glass, his powerful body taut with awareness, as if he knew he could crush her at any moment.

But restraint wasn’t what she wanted.

She wanted Jesse, his hunger, his desire. She wanted the oblivion she knew he could bring her.

“Jesse,” she said, and wound her arms around his neck, lifted herself to him. And when she sensed him still holding back, she brought her mouth to his and nipped at his lip.

His reaction was as swift as her racing heart.

He groaned like a man in pain, rolled her onto her back and took command.

He plunged his hands into her hair, framed her face, brought it to his. No gentle kiss as it had been before. This time, his lips were hungry and demanding. His breathing was ragged. Hers was, too. She heard herself making soft moans of impassioned longing.

He slid one arm beneath her and raised her against him.

Yes. Oh, yes. The heavy thrust of his erection against her belly was the best possible affirmation that all of this was really happening.

Her eyes flew open when he pulled back the blanket.

“Don’t stop,” she said, “please, Jesse, don’t—”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Very sure.”

His eyes darkened. “I want to see you.”

His voice was low and rough and so sexy she thought she might come just from hearing it. Her hands went to the hem of her sweatshirt and she began to lift it.

“No,” he said in that same gruff whisper. “I’ll do it.”

He pushed her hands aside and slowly, so slowly she thought she might die, he drew the shirt over her head and tossed it aside.

He smiled. “I almost forgot those two T-shirts,” he said softly.

And stripped them away, as well.

His smile faded. His gaze fell to her breasts. The look he gave her now was everything a woman could ever ask for from her lover. It was as hot, as filled with dangerous promise, as the fire.